On the pristine white European-style dining table, lavish carvings trailed along the edge to the far end.
The crystal chandelier overhead glared slightly. Lin Beixing’s body—having crammed relentlessly all night—was so exhausted it could barely keep its eyes open.
Lu Yu dozed at the table. The moment he dipped his head, the woman across tapped her steel fork lightly against the porcelain plate.
*Ding ding—*
The crisp, grating sound jolted him awake.
Lu Yu shuddered. This body instinctively feared that chime.
He forced his drooping eyelids up and straightened his back with effort.
Before him sat a small plate of oddly portioned food: two broccoli florets, half an ear of corn, half a shelled boiled egg, and a steaming glass of milk within reach.
At first glance, it looked like a haphazard scrap of leftovers.
*Supposedly* for nutritional balance.
To hell with nutritional balance.
Lu Yu felt this body was seconds from collapse.
Mostly thanks to Lin Beixing’s all-nighter—sleepless hours plus hunger had drained it completely.
What could possibly drive her to push this hard? Lu Yu couldn’t fathom it.
He believed nothing mattered more than pleasing oneself. Selfish? Maybe. But investing time and energy solely in yourself—that was the only thing worth doing.
“What’s wrong?”
The woman across had noticed his lapse. Her gaze landed on him like a verdict.
Madam Lin’s features echoed Lin Beixing’s—especially those deep, bottomless black eyes. But where Lin Beixing’s held a trace of warmth, Madam Lin’s were sharp as blades.
“Nothing… Just a bit hungry this morning,” Lu Yu murmured, spearing the only item vaguely resembling protein—the boiled egg—with a tiny fork.
*Scrape…*
Something slid across the table. He looked up.
Madam Lin’s untouched bowl of oatmeal.
His movements stilled. Egg still in his mouth, he mumbled, “Thank you, Mom…”
“Don’t speak with your mouth full.”
Her tone remained icy, utterly devoid of warmth.
At first, Lu Yu doubted genuine affection existed in this household.
But now… not so sure.
Madam Lin was strict, her elegant face perpetually cold—yet undeniably loving.
Picking Lin Beixing up from school. Asking about homework when new books came home. Worrying over her trigger finger. And just now—without hesitation—offering her own food when “Lin Beixing” mentioned hunger.
Lu Yu could label it all “maternal love.”
Yet this love pressed down on him, suffocating.
As he ate, he scanned the house.
The Lin dining room sat on the first floor. Sunlight filtered through the sealed window, dappling the sill.
The AC hummed nonstop. Even in summer heat, the villa stayed perfectly cool.
From his seat, the living room was visible—golden lights glowing, vast and empty.
He’d never seen Lin Beixing’s father. Likely a busy man. What was *his* attitude toward his daughter?
He’d ask Lin Beixing Monday at school. If their bodies kept swapping, understanding her home was necessary.
“I’m done, Mom.”
Lu Yu had eaten at his slowest possible pace. This tiny portion? He could’ve wolfed it down in seconds. But for Lin Beixing’s body, he chewed deliberately.
Still, astonishingly fast. Madam Lin had barely peeled her egg when she looked up to find “Lin Beixing’s” plate empty.
She simply nodded. “Go upstairs. Your tutor waits in the study.”
“Okay…”
He dabbed his mouth with the napkin, stacked the utensils, and headed up—relying on his gamer’s knack for memorizing layouts.
Lin Beixing’s study doubled as a piano room, likely for balancing music and academics.
The blonde piano teacher was absent. Through the door crack, an elderly woman sat by the desk.
Lu Yu didn’t enter. He pulled Lin Beixing’s phone from his pocket—finally free of Madam Lin’s watchful eyes.
Screen lit. Two notifications:
*Yu (30 mins ago):*
Just bury your head in a book. Look focused—the tutor won’t bother you. Avoid writing or solving problems. If issues come up, call me from the bathroom…
*Yu (5 mins ago):*
Why’s there no food at your place… I’m starving!
Glancing warily at the reading woman, Lu Yu typed at gamer-speed:
*Little North Star:*
Instant noodles gone. Only eggs and sausages left. Desperate? Rice and dried noodles in the drawer above the sink. Help yourself.
Seconds after sending—*typing…* appeared.
Heart pounding, he switched the phone to silent.
*Yu:* I don’t know how to cook…
*Little North Star:* Come downstairs and eat.
*Yu:* …Checked your phone. No money.
The words stabbed deep. End of month. Wallet empty. Alipay held barely a hundred yuan—not enough for a meal.
*Yu:* Transfer me five hundred.
*Little North Star:* ???
*Yu:* I’ll send money from *my* phone to *me*—my own cash. No issue. Hurry, your cat’s hungry too!
(He almost typed: *My cat only needs kibble…*)
*Yu:* Facial recognition’s on. Just scan your face!
With a sigh, Lu Yu transferred five hundred to “his own” account.
Transferring money to himself felt surreal.
Ren Jie’s yesterday jab echoed: *“Living off a woman…”*
“Come in now that you’re here.”
Her dull voice startled him mid-text.
“Time is precious; every second counts… Cherish each moment.”
The elderly woman slowly turned her head. Her cloudy eyes held zero kindness—only a glare sharp enough to swallow him whole.
A chill raced down his spine. Silently, he pocketed the phone and stepped inside, neck stiff.
